The Sunward Climb
by Contia Mirian
Summary: Superion remembers.


Disclaimer: I don't own transformers, 

The first thing he noticed as his systems grudgingly came back on line was that it was dark. The second thing he noticed was that the space was much more cramped then anything he'd every have willingly entered. The third thing he noticed was that someone's coolant, and possibly energon were dripping steadily onto his up turned face.

The memories were much slower to return than consciousness had been. When they did, his first instinct was to call for help on his radio, the only response was an audio splitting burst of static. He was either too deep, or the radio had been to badly damaged, either in the battle or the subsequent fall, both of the options were equally likely, and both equally moot.

The dark seemed a living thing pressing in on all sides, and had he been an organic he'd have said it was smothering him, of course had he been an organic he'd never have survived the fall that had landed him in his current position, half on a tiny ledge, half wedged up against the rift's other wall.

It was a measure, he thought, of just how many times he'd hit his head, and how hard, on the way down, that it was only just now occurring to him to wonder about the other aerialbots, who'd been with him in the battle at least. He shifted carefully, not wanting to dislodge his left wing from the wall, which would be risking a fall, but wanting to see if he could see anything of the expanse between him and the sky above. By craning his head in away that made his neck threaten bloody revolt if he tried it again, he could just make out Air Raid's hand, it was hanging over the edge of a ledge much larger than the one half supporting his own weight.

"'Raid?" His voice was weaker and more pained then he'd have liked, but his body wasn't exactly giving him a vote.

"Yeah?" The response was weak, Air Raid was probably just as badly damaged as he was and in just as much pain, but it was the best thing Slingshot had ever heard in his life.

"Your radio working?"

"Some," Air Raid paused as though considering how to continue. "They've got a rescue team up there, and they managed to pull 'Dive out of that first hole, but we're a lot deeper, and they're thinking it's gonna be a couple hours"

Slingshot made a sound that was remarkably like a grunt, for someone with none of the parts technically required to grunt. And then asked the question that was really bothering him. ""Flight, and Bolt?"

There was a long silence from Air Raid, and Slingshot couldn't decide if his brother has passed out again, was avoiding the question, didn't hear him, or was talking to someone over the radio. He was about to repeat himself when Air Raid spoke. "Fireflight, managed to not crash at all, he's the one who got help, and Bolt missed the hole the rest of use wound up in, and 'just' skidded along the ground for a couple a hundred yards. They're gonna be fine."

Relief washed over him at that. He had gotten a better grip on his injuries now, and he was pretty sure he wasn't going to make it a couple of hours. Which sucked royally, because of all the places he could have died, and all the times, buried alive in some sink hole, on some back water planet that wasn't Cybertron, or even Earth, was the last way he ever would have wanted, but his body still didn't seem to be giving him much of a vote. As though reading his mind Air Raid spoke again.

"How're you doing? 'Cause I'm leaking energon, and coolant, and I think I'm short a leg. And maybe a wing." Slingshot considered his answer carefully, if he took too long, Air Raid would know he was lying, but if he were to tell the truth Air Raid would worry and might very well hurt himself. He should say something typically arrogant, but he doesn't have the energy to spare on attitude, he barely had energy to spare on talking.

"I'm about as well as can be expected given everything 'RaidH

" This was not even technically a lie. Given the battle they had lost, the fact that they had all but one been shot down, and Skydive, Air Raid, and he had, through some strange twist of fate, all gone down into a cave mouth, which he and Air Raid had promptly discovered had a sink hole of some depth in the middle of the floor, dying was about as good as one could reasonably expect one's health to be. "You should shut down to conserve energy."

A large part of him hoped Air Raid will ignore the advice, would stay awake and talk to him, but it's good advice, and they both knew it. He'd follow it himself, but he knew if he shut down he wasn't coming back on line, and if he had to die in a hole in the ground he had no intention doing it in his sleep.

The hours passed slowly, once Air Raid fell silent, and so gradually that at first he didn't notice it, he began to hear voices and movement over head. He tried to call out, but his energy was lower now, and he can't seem to raise his voice above a whisper. The light was sudden and painful. The rescue team had made it to Air Raid's ledge and someone was peering down at him. He couldn't see who past the glare of the light, and he couldn't seem to make what ever it is they were saying assemble into coherent words. He was so very very tired.

Somehow in the space between that thought and the next, some one has made it down to his precarious position. And they were wrapping a safety harness around him, and now he was moving. Time was doing funny things now, by the time he'd noticed that he was moving, he is back in the first cave, and he can see the sunlight around the edges of the entrance. He smiled as they carried him out into the light. This was where a flier should die, out in the open where he could see the sky. The light took on a strange cast bluish cast, and it was over.

Sliverbolt shot upright in the recharging berth. He could feel himself shaking. It had been almost a year since any of them had woken up like this in the middle of the night. Back when it had first started, right after Slingshot had died, they had all thought they were going crazy. It had taken weeks of reliving their brother's last hours for them to figure out where it was coming from. Superion was a constant part of all of them, and Superion, now down an arm, remembered what had happened to a part of himself.

There was a quiet scuffling noise at the door, and he raised his arm in welcome with out even looking, knowing who it was. When Superion decided to remember, they all experienced it. Fireflight dove under the raised arm, very much the younger sibling who'd just had a nightmare. He was surprised, though not very surprised, when Air Raid appeared on his other side. He was shocked when Skydive settled himself on Air Raid's other side. Usually when this happened, Skydive would sit at the desk and read strategy, or history, content to just be in the room.

This had been a bad one though; usually Superion just showed them what happened after the rescuers had gotten there. Silverbolt was pretty sure he'd never seen the conversation with Air Raid before. It certainly explained Air Raid's distress, learning that he had known he was dieing, maybe that explained everyone's need to act like human children during a thunderstorm. They stayed that way, unmoving for the rest of the night. Shortly before morning they retreated back to their own rooms. If First Aid found out how badly they were still suffering, they'd be locked in the med bay, while the medical staff ran every test they could think of on their processors.

It wasn't until afternoon that they had a chance to use the only therapy that really worked to dispel these ghosts. Silverbolt stood in the middle of the open field and watched his brothers playing tag with the clouds. He smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. This was where fliers belonged. Out in the sun.


End file.
